


Expectations

by Puimoo



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, chapter 118 coda, let's pretend that is a thing, very light hints of pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:12:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puimoo/pseuds/Puimoo
Summary: Some days you win the practice match, but lose the attention of your number 10 to an egocentric striker with terrible hair. Coda to chapter 118.Or: the fic where Kimishita doesn’t notice he’s subconsciously chosen between Ooshiba and Mizuki, but they certainly have.





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> What I love about chapter 118 is how it feels like there is this shift where Kimishita moves a little away from Mizuki to fall into step with Ooshiba. There is this shift in Kimishita’s expectations, and it’s almost like we’re seeing Kimishita starting to move forward into the next incarnation of the team. Also, first DAYS fanfic, and I’m still feeling these characters out.

“Oi! You noticed, right?”

Mizuki has showered, changed. He has finger brushed his hair, and cleaned the dirt and grass from his spikes. He did spill some polish on his school shirt, but that’s ok. His tie cleverly covers the stain. Sort of. 

He doesn’t think Ooshiba is referring to any of these rituals when he calls out after Mizuki just as he is leaving the changing room following practice. He blinks away from the light that is drawing him outside and turns back into the shadow-laden room with a swu-ush.

Usui says it’s important for him to try and understand his team mates, which Mizuki thinks is a little unfair. He finds that a suitably, appropriately puzzled look is usually all it takes for his team mates to try and make themselves a bit more comprehendible. 

Ooshiba is looking cocky, comfortable, and triumphant. This is pretty much on par for the other boy, and could simply be because Ooshiba correctly guessed that today is Wednesday. 

Thankfully, Mizuki’s puzzled look is all powerful and Ooshiba is too impatient to sit for any length of time in Mizuki-induced silences. 

“Today. On the field. _Defence._ ”

Mizuki’s eyes light up, because oh! Now this is a language that Mizuki understands, full of noo-ums and oooshs, and vrumps. The light in Ooshiba’s eyes say ESPECIALLY the noo-ums, and Mizuki has to quickly smother away the tiny hint of a smile that threatens the corner of his lips. This is serious, after all.

For once Ooshiba’s triumph has nothing to do with football, not really. This is probably to Ooshiba’s benefit, as he is still entirely too rash and predictable to truly take on a defensive interplay for a sustained period of time. Instead, his triumph has to do with dark green eyes and their stormy contribution to the practice game. 

Mizuki is used to being a target of Kimishita’s alternatively angry, quiet and angry again gaze. He’s grown accustomed to the expectation that has always lingered there, pooling amongst the hunger, commitment, and moments of critical self-doubt.

As a result, Mizuki knows what it is like to have Kimishita’s unwavering presence parked firmly in the back of his thoughts. He mourns it a little, now that it appears to have relocated itself further onto right field. While Mizuki is sometimes just a little bit oblivious to ‘things’ (he is unsure what these ‘things’ are, but he has it on good authority that he misses them, regardless), even he had felt the shift in Kimishita’s attention during the game, the change in where his expectations now lay. 

Mizuki misses it – _him_ – already.

Ooshiba’s smirk widens slowly, becoming all teeth. Of course the younger boy sees this as a victory, and perhaps in some ways it is. Certainly, Ooshiba has been fighting for this particular prize for long enough.

With a small nod, Mizuki takes a step backwards and bows deep at the waist.

“Please take good care of him.” He speaks the words formally, deliberate, and there is a beat before Ooshiba’s obnoxious laughter cracks like a whip through the changing room. 

Mizuki forgives the laughter in favour of the brief silence that came first. It’s a silence that says that Ooshiba understands. He knows that Kimishita is brilliant and brittle and oddly fragile. He knows that Kimishita works too hard and gives too easily, but finds it far too difficult to receive much in return.

Mizuki is oddly sentimental, and thinks therefore that Kimishita is someone who should be treasured. Ooshiba is oddly sentimental as well, or perhaps just sentimental in odd ways given how Ooshiba and Kimishita normally interact. But he gets that _this_? Is not a gift. It’s a responsibility. 

An expectation.

Ooshiba is cut off mid cackle as a water bottle torpedoes into the back of his head, rebounding off to catch Mizuki on his shoulder just as he’s stretching up out of his bow. Ooshiba turns and swears, but Mizuki is already schooling his expression into one of utmost innocence. Be one with the innocence, he murmurs to himself.

Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn’t actually spoken those words out loud.

Kimishita looks like he wants to kill them both.

“What the fuck? I am right _here._ ” An angry brush of red hits Kimishita’s cheeks before Kimishita manages to force the colour away though sheer force of will alone. His voice is deadly, low. Mizuki’s innocent look is clearly not working as intended, and he thinks he will need to practice it in front of the mirror again later. “Half the team is still here.” The hiss of embarrassment is not unlike Kimishita, nor is the way his jaw clenches painfully. 

Mizuki knows it’s only Usui’s threatening hand on his shoulder that keeps Kimishita’s explosiveness vaguely reined in. Still, the emotions rage as those dark eyes flick between them both. Anger. Embarrassment. Bewilderment. Anger. Acknowledgement. Shame. Anger. Denial. Anger. There are other emotions, more private and raw, untamed. Kimishita is not ready to acknowledge those yet, and so Mizuki denies their existence for now, as well.

He feels their quiet ache, all the same. 

“Well?” Kimishita growls, his expectant gaze settling reluctantly on Ooshiba. It cuts, just a little, and Mizuki is not complicated enough to deny the sudden sensation of loss. Still, there are advantages to not being the focus of Kimishita’s laser accurate intent. It means he is able to side step easily out of the way when Ooshiba says the wrong thing and the room erupts into chaos and shouting and violence. It’s a nice sound, a comforting one of both contempt and familiarity that Kimishita always thought Mizuki just a little too pristine for.

He hopes that there is a part of Kimishita that knows just how dirty Mizuki has become because of him. If not, Mizuki will have to thank him for it later. Just … maybe not now, while fists are being flung and caught by complicit things like cheeks and walls and air.

“That went well,” Usui says lightly as they slip out into the sharp sunshine. ’Well’ is an interesting word to choose, and Mizuki wonders if Usui has hidden a thousand different subtitles into it as he often does.

Mizuki does not feel particularly ‘well’. But he is pleased.

“A 1-0 result,” Mizuki allows amiably.

“In favour of you, I suspect.” Usui’s dry response is definitely loaded this time, but Mizuki simply smiles with perhaps just a little, all knowing smugness of his own. 

It will take a lot more work on Ooshiba’s behalf if he plans on scoring, after all.


End file.
